Dominance of Fate: Tempering the Fool's Wisdom
by Special Agent Mavy
Summary: With Eragon and Saphira gone, and Murtagh ruler, the magical realms of Alagaësia have fallen into misery. However, there are rumors of new Riders, and hope is returning to the kingdom's citizens. Book One in the Dominance of Fate Trilogy. ON HIATUS!
1. Prologue: Blood Feud

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything you recognize, for I am not that creative, despite how many times I would like to think I am. I only own the plot and my own characters, nothing else. Just making sure nobody sues me!

**Story Description: **Peace reigned through the magical realms of Alagaësia for only a few years after the legendary Rider Eragon and his wise dragon Saphira defeated King Galbatorix, ending the terrible reign of the dark Rider. However, peace does not last. Murtagh and Thorn return, and this time, the righteous Rider is defeated by his own blood. However, several years later, hope still shimmers for those with enough faith to see it. For five dragon eggs remain hidden, waiting for the right person to find them…

**Prologue: Blood Feud**

Peace. A word that had not described Alagaësia for so long was now the only way to give a description to the amazing land. The elves, humans, and dwarves lived in harmony, at least as harmonious as such different species could get. It had been only five years since King Galbatorix had been defeated, and there were promises of dragon eggs on the way from the Rider Eragon's dragon, Saphira, and her mate, Rasiad, dragon of the elf and Rider, Ayra. But the secure bonds of trust and love were to be broken one star spangled night, from the arrival of the dark Rider, Murtagh.

Flames licked the darkness, their crackling creating a haunting song. Screams filled the air, and the stench of death and singed flesh was heavy on the breeze. Three dragons, one of the deepest sapphire blue, another of a shining, emerald green, and the last of a deep, blood red, battled in the sky. Two had Riders on them, while the indigo dragon battled without a human or elf on her back. The emerald dragon, his Rider, and Saphira were distractions. It was a lost cause to even think that they could battle Murtagh and Thorn and defeat them; their only hope was that the missing Rider, Eragon, would succeed on his mission. If he did not, the hope of ever again having a peaceful Alagaësia would perish with him.

A figure sprinted through the darkness, his soot-streaked face shadowed by the flickering of wild flames. He was human, of course, and very young for the task he was attempting. However, his features were more of a feline nature, his ears pointed and his eyes slanted slightly. Clutched in his strong arms were five shimmering stones, each of a beautiful hue. He arrived before a rather small cottage, gasping for breath as he knocked on the door. Another man, perhaps a few years older than him, lacking the graceful features, appeared at the door, a shocked expression on his face.

"E-Eragon?" he spluttered, looking over his worn cousin.

"Take these, Roran," Eragon commanded, shoving the five gleaming stones into his cousin's arms. "Hide them, hide all of them, for they are the last—"

His words, however, were cut short, his mouth hanging open, and his eyes wide and lifeless. Several miles away, the sapphire dragon let out a bloodcurdling roar, crimson blood seeping from the area she had been hit. Her wings folded, her dark indigo eyes glazed over, falling to the ground below her. Her mate, the emerald dragon, roared fiercely, his Rider, an elf, looking equally distraught. The mighty ivy hued beast wheeled on its crimson counterpart, only to meet the same fate as Saphira, his Rider dieing along with him, just like Eragon.

The only living creature stared down at the fallen dragons, his large, scarlet eyes emotionless. His Rider wore a smug smirk, obviously pleased with the grizzly scene he had created. Murtagh pulled something out of his belt, waving it up in the air. The pale, full moon's rays were reflected on a maroon blade, the blood on its tip exactly the same color. Then, the peace and security was shattered.

Roran felt tears sting his eyes, a sob caught in his throat. He fell to his fallen relative's side, desperately checking the pulse, and attempting to bring the younger man back to life in vain. For hours, he merely cried, until his tear ducts were too dry to produce any more tears. It was only then that he realized the five stones, the objects the faithful Rider had died for, had disappeared…

**A/N: **Should I quit while I'm ahead? Please, oh please, review!


	2. Chapter One: The Thief

**Disclaimer: **-Insert some witty comment about how she does not own anything from the Inheritance Trilogy here-

**Chapter One: The Thief**

Silence was key here. One wrong move, one slipped finger, could mean the difference between freedom and imprisonment. For that was the way of the Hadarac Desert, and more importantly, the way of the thief. Light indigo eyes narrowed into icy blue slants as their owner's nimble fingers carefully and silently played with the locked door, an air of determination surrounding the being.

The softest of 'clicks' echoed through the strangely frigid night air. Carefully, a being clothed in black slipped into the open door. Her eyes readjusted to the darkness inside quickly, having been used to doing such things for a while now. A shaft of moonlight streaked through a grimy window, illuminating her surroundings in an eerie silver light.

It was a poor excuse for a shack, being made of only two rooms. Its walls were crumbling from age. Most of the furniture was either broken or seemed as if it had seen better days. Muddy rags littered the floor, and she had a feeling that they were clothes, despite how ragged and old they seemed. A slender man lay upon one of the rare intact pieces of furniture, an old, moth bitten couch.

He appeared as worn and ragged as his surroundings. His hair, which may have been a fine blonde in his younger days, was now a crude, dirty brown, and the thief had no doubt that fleas had made it their domicile. He had the appearance of somebody who had lost a lot of weight in a very, very short amount of time. The man's face had several more lines and creases than he should at his age. Despite his ancient appearance, the girl guessed he was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. The hardened look on his face suggested he had lost more than pounds very quickly. Had his eyes been open, she was sure they would have a vacant and hungry look within them. His clothes were equally as dirty as the rags that scattered the floor, the remains of a brown tunic and gray pants.

Despite how sad the scene was, the thief sifted through his belongings without a stab of pity for the man. Rich and poor; social status made no difference in the desert. There were too types of people as far as the desert was concerned; those with the will to survive no matter what sins they had to do for it, and those who didn't. Tonight, she was merely trying to survive. As beastly as her outlook on life was, it was not rare among the dunes of the town Bullridge, located in the center of the Hadarac Desert. Kindness was not a wide spread virtue in these times, and especially not in the area where she lived.

After many moments of sifting through the worthless possessions, she was getting anxious. She had to find something valuable here, she had to. The Strykers would not be happy with her if she did not return with something of value. The girl winced, remembering the sting of a hand slapped mercilessly across her cheek from before. Fueled with a new determination, she began to work as quickly as she dared.

Just when she was about to give up and face her punishment, she moved a pile of smelly rags and came upon something strange. Before her, illuminated in the shimmer of the stars, lay an inky black stone. It was not an average rock, however. It was about a foot tall, and half a foot in width. It gleamed like a black diamond, and as she ran her fingers over it, she was surprised by its flawless surface. Silvery veins lay across it as if giant spider web had been wrapped around the stone. Her eyes glinted happily. This was defiantly valuable, whatever it was.

Hearing a loud snore from the man on the couch, she hastily scooped the rock into her arms, silently heading towards the door. As quietly as she had slipped into the adobe, she slipped out, onto the vacant streets of Bullridge. A few lanterns glowed from within the other houses of the town, much like the shack she had just came out of. She crept through the town, careful to avoid a stray dog that might give away her position.

After many minutes of wandering, she arrived on the outskirts of the rather small town. She continued away from the flickering lights of the town, slowly walking over dunes of ever-changing sand. Finally, her eyes rested upon a medium-sized building, made of warn red brick. It had been dulled to the color of sandstone from years of use, and was about as crumbly as the shake back in Bullridge. Had somebody not been looking for it, the building could have easily been missed or passed off as a large sand dune.

As she neared, she felt a little hesitant, glancing down at the onyx stone tucked under her right arm. What if it wasn't as valuable as she thought it was? The gods knew she did not need any more bruises or whippings. She shivered, trying to reassure herself. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened an old door made out of weak wood, wincing as it squeaked. There was no turning back now.

A single lantern, set on a rickety table surrounded by seven chairs, gave a warm red lighting to the rest of the room. In the lighting, one could finally see what the girl looked like. She wore a black tunic, perhaps a few shades lighter then the stone tucked under her arm, with silver accents. Her pants were of a worn, harsh silver material. The thief's hair was light blonde, not exactly platinum blonde, but more like bright sunshine. It was tied back into two, short braids, suggesting that her hair, when undone, was of medium width. She had a nimble build, perfect for slipping through small alleyways and tight windows.

The room around her wasn't that large. It appeared to be a bunkroom of some kind, with several straw mattresses. A few, mostly smaller children, were sleeping upon them. The pickpockets. They worked in the day, and slept at night. Many were younger, and had yet to receive any mentoring for larger jobs. The unused beds had personal processions either on them, hidden inside the mattress, or underneath the mattress. She saw a picture laying face down on top of one, a ragged old blanket sticking out from under a corner of one of them, and a stuffed doll poking from within the straw. Two doors led off, one to the right, and one to the left. They led to separate washrooms, one for the boys, and one for the girls. However, this was not what the girl's attention was drawn to.

A shot boy stood in the middle of the room, a smug smirk perched on his features. He wore a ragged brown tunic, with equally worn reddish brown pants. His hair was naturally curly black, his eyes an amazing emerald green, and a few freckles were splashed across his nose from being under the sun often. As frail as he looked, he was the strongest of all the Strykers, a group of elite thieves, and the best of the pickpockets and night burglars. He wasn't as nice as he looked, either, and the girl dreaded meeting with him. He approached her slowly, obviously relishing the look of dread upon her features.

"You're late, Azriella," he stated, the smirk on his face growing wider.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," the girl, obviously named Azriella, replied sarcastically. The boy frowned.

"You, of all people, should realize disrespect gets you no where with me," he growled, obviously angry at her lack of fear. She merely cocked an eyebrow.

"That, Marnier, was sarcasm, not disrespect," she informed him, looking bored, despite the fact her heart was beating wildly within her chest.

Marnier looked as if he was fighting an internal battle over the thought of hitting her, and loosing. After a moment, however, he regained his cool disposition, watching her with a seemingly cold gaze.

"You better have something good, Azriella, or I might just break your jaw," Marnier threatened. "At least that would shut you up for a while."

Azriella struggled with the urge to reply with something she knew would earn her a beating. Instead, she placed the obsidian stone on the table before leaning against a wall, arms folded as her leader inspected the stone. He looked over it closely, obviously surprised at its quality. Just when she thought she was off the hook, he turned. Before she knew what was happening, he smacked her across the cheek with such force it sent her stumbling backward, shocked.

"It is obviously fake," he spat, going on before she could object. "How could such a gemstone end up in the possession of the filthy beggars I know you steal from? No meals for a day, and you must work with the pickpockets tomorrow. Also," he continued, picking up the stone and placing it in her grasp. "You are to carry this with you at all times."

She stared at him, jaw open. It was enough to go without meals and have to work both a dayshift and nightshift, but to carry the stone around all day? How could she slip through the crowds if she was carrying something of perhaps greater value than herself? She glared, but nodded. It would be no use to fight with the Stryker leader.

"Good, now go to sleep," Marnier commanded, grinning as he turned and headed towards his own cot. "I dare say you will be needing the sleep."

Still scowling at him, Azriella climbed into bed, rolling the onyx stone carelessly under her mattress. It was the cause of all of this, after all. And it would be the cause of several other things, too, but she did not know this..

**A/N: **Long chapter! So, what do you think of it so far, hmm? Love it? Hate it? Tell me! Also, I need some personalities for more of the newest Riders! Submit them in the review. I need another girl and three boys. Give me your character's name, age, gender, appearacne, race(they are allowed to be elves), where they come from, history, and personality, oh, and whatever else you want me to know about them!


	3. Chapter Two: The Sailor

**Disclaimer: **I. Own. Nothing. If I did, Murtagh would've never turned bad, and Roran would be the last Rider. But I don't, so please don't sue me.

**Chapter Two: The Sailor**

The waves beat steadily against the west coast of Alagaësia, never hurried, never troubled. They seemed to mock those who had things to worry about, a family to care for, or deals to finalize. While many loved the ocean, some secretly envied it. All it had to do was continue to lap against the soft, white sand of a beach or cove, while others worried about plague and starvation. Everian pondered such thoughts as his muddy brown eyes followed the waves as they crashed into the land and then slunk out.

He loved the sea. Almost everyone in Kuasta could not deny they had some fondness for the liquid mass. Perhaps it was because of what it supplied them with. It supplied them with fish, their only source of meat during the winter, and also with shells and sea glass to trade with. Many thought it was a bad omen to lose something on the banks of the salty water, some even believed the sea was a god, punishing those when she saw it fit. Everian did not believe such nonsense.

What were his thoughts on the sea? Even he was not too sure. His father had died, only a week ago, at sea. This caused bitter anger to well up inside his lanky body. His father, Rilian, had never defied the sea. He had never taken too much fish from it, nor pollute it with trash like his crewmen had. And yet, the sea had taken his life while he was merely rowing out to a wild island just ten miles off shore.

The sky seemed to be mourning for the loss. Above him, the sky was streaked with different tints of silver and stormy blue. These were not beautiful colors; these were the hues of an oncoming storm. The fishermen would not dare to row out to sea today.

He fingered the last gift his father had given to him, something they had found washed up on the beach. A rather large indigo stone lay upon his lap. Ivory veins crisscrossed over it without a true pattern, adding a little artistic flare to the smooth rock. Everian bushed back a strand of his messy brown hair, tracing a vein with his fingertips, thinking of the day he and his father had found the stone.

_The sea sparkled merrily in the bright light of the sun that hung in an equally blue sky above it. The light flickered on the ocean surface, making it appear as if diamonds floated on the expanse of sapphire blue. A boy, about sixteen, raced across the shoreline, a man following slowly behind him._

_Everian laughed, looking back at his father as the man slowly walked towards his son. The boy wore a navy tunic and tan pants, the same being displayed upon the man. The man's face was strong, like worn leather. A wild, chocolate brown beard hid half of his face, warm, light green eyes flickering with the spark only the good natured had. He was of a sturdy build, but quick on his feet, as only a veteran of the sea acquired. _

"_Slow down, boy," the man bellowed, though his rough voice had a teasing tone within it. "I don't need to treat another one of your injuries."_

_The boy rolled his brown eyes, but did as his father requested, skidding to a stop, kicking up gleaming white sand as he did so. He grinned as his father took his time, obviously meaning to annoy the young boy. It was easy to see that they had a strong bond, but what father and son pair wouldn't if all they had was each other?_

_Rilian, however, stopped a few paces short of where his son had; leaning down and scrapping some sand off of something Everian couldn't see. Curiosity got the better of the boy, and he sauntered over to where his father stood, holding something in his hands. As he approached, the boy gasped. In his father's hands was a large stone, as navy blue as the sea where it was found. Blinking, he quickened his pace, soon arriving at his father's side._

_"What is it, father?" Everian asked, obviously awed as his father turned the stone in his large, calloused hands._

_"I don't know," Rilian murmured. "Look at it though. As smooth as sea glass, and equally blue."_

_"You think its sea glass?" he questioned. Never had he seen a piece of sea glass as big as the stone._

_"Nay," the older man said, looking over it. "Look at these," he pointed at the white veins that ran over the blue stone like ivory sea snakes over the ocean. "No piece of sea glass has these. It's a sign of good fortune."_

_"You think everything's a sign of good fortune," Everian joked, grinning slightly. He expected his father to chuckle, but instead, he turned to his son, an unreadable expression on his wild features._

_"Take it, and protect it with your life," the sailor instructed, placing the stone in his son's hands. "Something surrounds this stone, something greater and more important than both of our lives."_

_Before his son could object, he lumbered on towards a dock, why they had originally came onto the beach, leaving Everian's only option to follow him. They continued towards the rowboat the proudly called theirs, each lost in their own thoughts. Little did they know that only two weeks later would one of them not be around to row…_

Everian shook with rage as he drew himself from the memory, glaring down at the stone with seething hatred. It was not a sign of good fortune, but an omen of death. It had taken all happiness and pride he had in his life. Not only was his father dead, but the row boat had sunk, and the landlord of his house was threatening to toss him out on the streets, for they had lived with the help of the rowboat. He was about to chuck it back into the waves from where it had come, but something happened that made him froze. A squeak echoed from within it. Then, it began to rock back and forth. Everian dropped it, startled, and jumped back as it continued to shake.

Cracks spread across its smooth surface, the squeaking growing louder and more frequent, the shaking more violent. It was soon a rocking blue blur, rolling around on the ivory sand. After several minutes of this, it stopped, and Everian relaxed, taking a hesitant step forward. That was, until a large piece of the stone, which was in fact an egg, flew forward and landed at his feet, leaving a large gap in the egg's surface.

And slithering out of the gap in the sapphire egg, was an equally blue, small, dragon…

**A/N: **And another character is introduced! As you might have guessed, this shifts from main character to main character, in different settings. This will continue, until they meet up with each other, but I will still shift character point of views even then. Also, you may still suggest a character. They can be good or evil, as three of them shall be good, and two shall…well, either be evil by choice or by force. We still need two more guys(one preferably an elf), and a girl(preferably an elf, also, but could be human as well). Shorter than the other one, I know. I didn't really like this chapter, but Everian will have a more developed personality later.


	4. Chapter Three: The Orphan

**Disclaimer:** I. Own. Nothing…. Except my wacky characters and weird plot ideas.

**Chapter Four: The Orphan**

_It had been like any other night. A jovial air seemed to weigh heavy on the breeze, causing those touched by it to forget their troubles and join the small party. The trees of Kirtan were alight with multi-colored lanterns celebrating the birth of Prince Windern the next Ruler of the Elves. Tonight was indeed a night to forget of the oncoming threat of the evil Ruler Murtagh's threatening armies. _

_Old, Elvin instruments that had not been seen since the days of Rider Eragon were brought forth from forgotten cellars and behind locked doors. The music was slow and beautiful, inviting hard workers to relax and join in with the dance. Merry laughter and jokes filled the air, light returning to the eyes of a race that had long ago thought hope was only a myth._

_Stars were splattered across a deep navy sky, resembling crystal white salt spilled across a rich blue tablecloth. Fireflies blinked in nearby bushes, as close as they would come to the flickering flames that the elves danced around. It was a gathering not unlike the Agaetí Blödhren. Animals lurked at the edge of the tree line, watching the elves with natural curiosity. The race, for once, cared not what other species thought of them. All the citizens gathered around, telling stories and legends, amusing the younger ones with tall tales. It seemed as everyone in the village had gathered for the celebration._

_But thus was not so. For creeping among the foliage was on of their kind, her almond eyes wide as she strained her heightened senses. Despite the overpowering vibe of music and joy in the air, something…magical was taking place, and it was not the birth of an elf. This was much, much more important. She stretched her nimble fingers out in the darkness, as even with her sight the darkness was overwhelming._

_The young elf, by the name of Daranella, stifled her yelp as she fell over an unseen root, causing her to fall into an ungraceful heap on the forest floor. Her heightened senses—many times either cursed or praised—told her she had landed in a pile of soggy leaves. In the darkness, one could not see her face, though her nose wrinkled in obvious dislike as she scrambled to her feet. Her white tunic was going to be coated with mud stains when she arrived back in the town._

_After several more likely fall, a myriad of encounters with rather unfriendly looking creatures, and even a moment of fear where she had thought she had lost her way, Daranella was about to give up on her seemingly useless search. Perhaps she had merely mistaken the kitting of a wild cat for something more. However, after a tumble not unlike the first, her fingers brushed against something smooth on the forest floor. Blindly, she picked up the object, surprised at how light it was for its size, which she determined by running her fingertips over it. It also seemed to have some kind of pulse around it…It was magical, she did not doubt that._

_She scooped it up, walking slowly towards a clearing to inspect the object. When the thick evergreens parted into a small thicket, a silent gasp escaped Daranella's lips. In her hands she held a dragon egg. There was no mistaking it; especially after the many lessons she had received of the noble species. _

_While doubtful in the moonlight, the egg appeared to be a tarnished gold, like a shimmering gold fish scale. Bronze veins wove themselves around the flawless surface, and she could almost feel their pulse under her fingertips. It was about one foot in height, and extremely light for what you would expect a dragon egg to weigh. She stared at it in awe for several minutes, light chocolate eyes tracing the strange pattern of bronze veins._

_Reality came back to her after a moment, however. She held a dragon egg! A real dragon egg! Great joy made her spirits soar, but with it came…greed. As much as she was delighted by its discovery, she knew as soon as she returned with it, the elves would shove her aside; forget about her as soon as they saw the egg. They'd give it to Prince Windern, she was sure, and would allow no one else to touch it. The realization hit her instantly; she could not let them have this egg._

_Daranella cradled the object like the precious thing it was, carefully placing it under the hollowed-out roots of a tree and covering it with leaves and bits of grass. When she was satisfied it was well hidden and no other elf would find it, she rose to her feet, reluctant to leave the egg behind. Casting one longing look over her shoulder, she started back towards the village, promising to return…_

Daranella sighed as she remembered that night. It had all seemed like a dream to the young elf; like one of the tall tales her elders would tell her. But it was not. She had the muddy dirt stains on her tunic and stinging scratches from bushes to prove that it was indeed reality.

She remembered what had happened when she had returned to the ceremony; where she had gone unmissed by her fellow citizens. But then again she was always left out, forgotten. After all, she was merely a dirty orphan; who would care about her? When they found out she had wandered off, she had been scolded for getting the stains on her good tunic, but otherwise unpunished, as the ceremony was too important to have a wandering elf ruin the mood.

A small grin formed on her lips as she remembered her frequent visits to the egg's spot; sitting there for hours and hours, just stroking the object's smooth surface. She'd been punished when she returned to the village; dirty stains on her clothes and chores undone. Her life in the city was becoming more and more distant with each passing day; seeming unimportant compared to the egg.

And then, it had happened. The egg had hatched for her. Daranella could still remember that day, still remember it quite clearly.

_The sun hung in the sky like a large golden medallion, sending heat waves down on the Elvin village. Many elves clustered under the shade of large pines, coming outside to do their work for a breeze. Daranella had been one of those, doing the chores set on her by her elders outside, dreading having to return to the stuffy rooms to continue her work._

_She cast a longing glance towards the forest, straightening her dark brown tunic as she did so. Her visits to the egg had become more and more frequent, and now she was to the point of skipping chores to spend time with it. This had earned her several lectures from the elders; as well as the stripping of privileges, but she did not care. She'd never felt exactly welcome in the city; the forest had always been her refuge. And now she had more of a reason to go there._

_After a moment of hesitation, she stopped racking up the fallen pine needles, carelessly leaving the rake there. Nobody gave a second glance as she wandered towards the forest, and why should they? She was merely a worthless, stupid little orphan, no matter if they admitted it or not_

_Several moments of wandering later, Daranella arrived by the tree she had hidden the egg in. With a delightful grin, the young elf leaned down, scooping the glistening gold egg from within the tree's roots. She sat against the trunk of the tree, absentmindedly stroking it as she became lost in her thoughts._

_A squeak broke the peaceful silence. Daranella glanced around, surprised by the sudden noise. All was quiet for a second, until another squeak shattered the calm. She looked down at the egg in a amazement, as she had felt the noise vibrate through her fingertips._

_The egg began rocking violently, and she quickly released it from her grip, letting it roll across the forest floor. She stared at it in horror, thinking she had done something wrong to cause the egg to squeak and shake. The elf sobbed into her hands, already begging forgiveness from anybody who would offer it. After several moments of loud squeaks and shakings, all noise stopped._

_Daranella glanced up with puffy red eyes from crying. It took a moment for her eyesight to come into focus, but when it did, she gasped, staring at the sight before her. Sitting in a shaft of sunlight, licking off the membrane that incased it, was a tarnished gold dragon._

_It glanced up at her, and she was startled by the fierceness and intelligence in it's shimmering gold eyes. They held eye contact for a moment, before the creature grew bored of the elf, and scrambled across the forest floor, digging its bronze claws into earth and squeaking with delight. Despite the shock, Daranella grinned._

_Slowly, she approached the young creature, holding out a shaking hand. The dragon looked up at the hand, cocking its head to the right, and then to the left comically, before stretching its neck so its head and her palm met. A gasp escaped the elf's mouth._

_An explosion blasted through her veins like liquid fire, and she squirmed in pain, biting her lip to keep from screaming out. The dull throb of a metal clang filled her ears as icy hot fire spread throughout her body. As soon as the pain had come, however, it disappeared, and she was left panting, staring at the dragon with wide eyes._

_She felt something brush against her mind gently, like a hand stroking a newborn's cheek. It was foreign and strange, and she quickly drew away from it, causing the contact to disappear. Her eyes wandered to the dragon suspiciously, as it stared at her with its head slightly cocked._

_It took a moment for her to realize that her right palm was itching and burning. She looked down at it, expecting to see a spider bite, but what she saw brought another gasp from her lips. A silvery oval glistened on her palm. Her lips mouthed the words. Gedwëy ignasia. Shining palm. Proof she was a Shur'tugal. _

_The contact had returned, this time hesitant as it stroked the creases of her mind. Slowly, she welcomed it. The contact mulled through her memories curiously, but curiosity was soon replaced with ravenous hunger. Daranella quickly got to her feet, picking up a rock. She glanced around, her eyes landing on a large bird. Sighing, she threw the pebble at it. Soon, the dragon was devouring the corpse, and she looked away._

_Daranella felt guilty at killing the creature, as in many lessons she had shared thoughts with birds and small animals. But she had done it for the dragon. _Her _dragon. A grin appeared upon her lips as the glistening gold dragon returned, gliding to her shoulder and pulling playfully on her onyx hair._

"_Kvetha, Fricai,(greetings, friend)" she whispered softly, and the golden creature seemed to nod at her, as if understanding._

_She sat down, humming, with the dragon still on her shoulder. The young elf—young Rider—pulled out long strands of dried grass, weaving them together to form a hut for the dragon, as she was not sure if it could shelter itself._

_The day worn on, and she was pleased to find the dragon could understand, in a way, the ancient language. She talked to it, walking through the woods as it sat on her shoulder, telling it of her memories, and of the parents she had never met. It had watched her keenly, giving her the thought it understood._

_When red and orange were streaking the sky, Daranella realized she had to return. She placed the dragon in its grass hut—on a branch in the tree its egg had been sheltered in—and promised to return. It had tried to follow her until she had given a stern "letta (stop)." It had returned to the branch, though watched her with smoldering gold eyes as she walked back towards the village._

"Daranella!" the squawk brought the elf back from her memories. She quickly whipped around, coming face to face with the kindly—yet stern—elder, Myanea. "Have you finished washing the dishes yet?"

"Y-Yes, Myanea," Daranella stuttered, and the older elf maiden grinned at her kindly.

"That's a good lass. Now would you be so kind as to dust the study?" it was not a question, it was a demand, despite how kind she seemed. Daranella nodded quickly. "Good."

The young Rider scurried off to the study, getting more lost in her thoughts as she went. It had been almost three weeks since that time, and the dragon had tripled in size. Her partner had began to say simple words, and their range of contact was becoming more widespread, to the point where Daranella could sense the dragon at the edge of the forest. She was sure it was about time to name the golden creature, and had been going through many in her head.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard lowered voices on the other side of the doorway. She went down on one knee, brushing a strand of raven hair behind her ear, and glanced into the room, where two elders were arguing.

"NO! NO!" said one, his voice on the verge of yelling. "We cannot tell her, she is too young for such a quest!"

"She has been no use other than a cleaning utensil, and her parents do owe us. After all, they sold us out to Murtagh, they forced us to leave the old village behind!" the other one growled. "She owes us her safety and protection! We could've thrown her in the forest!"

"And they died because of it! They died because they sold us out!" replied the other calmly. "You must not blame Daranella for her parent's sins, and you must not send her to Urû'baen!"

Daranella choked back a sob, dropping the duster she had picked up and running silently away, tears streaming down her cheeks. She'd imagined her parents as heroes, as two strong elves that had fought noble for their kind. It turned out they had fought, but not with nobility, and not for their own kind.

She blindly packed clothes and food into a small bag, having decided what she would do in the blink of an eye. The Rider was going to Urû'baen to win back pride to her family in anyway possible. To prove she wasn't a worthless orphan. Without a second thought or moment of hesitation, she walked out of the cottage.

The young Rider felt guilty as she saddled one of the horses in the stables, a horse that went by the name of Rivian. While this was a common occurrence—as she had always been fond of horses—it felt as if everybody was staring at her as she led the horse towards the edge of the woods, bag clutched in her grasp. She mounted the horse swiftly, whispering directions in its ear before commanding it to go.

She arrived to the dragon's nest in record time. It had obviously sensed her distress, for the tarnished gold creature was waiting on the ground when she arrived. It gazed at the horse suspiciously, and the horse did the same. Daranella greeted the dragon anxiously.

_What is wrong, Daranella? _It asked with concern.

_We are going to Urû'baen, _she informed the creature briskly.

_Why? _It asked simply.

Daranella looked away, bringing up the memory of what had happened as she crouched, looking through a keyhole and shared it with the dragon. It was puzzled, but soon realization dawned on its face, and it sent her soothing pictures. Soon, the young elf was sobbing into the dragon's side.

_You're parents are not you, Daranella. You are not to be blamed for their mistakes. Remember this; they must've been kind elves at one time. They were thoughtful, most likely, but starvation and difficulties bring out the worst in people. You're parents only wanted to keep you alive. You do not have to go to the evil capital._

_I must, _she said, before the dragon could interrupt, she continued. _I've never belonged in Kirtan and I never will. I must go to Urû'baen. I don't know why, but I must. Something awaits me there, something I cannot refuse; my past. I've heard do many legends of adventures, but never have I experienced one. If I am to be a Rider I must learn of bravery and honor, and I must test myself. This is a test for me._

The dragon obviously did not agree, but nodded its large head, sighing. It knew it could not talk her out of it, and the dragon would not waste breath trying to. _When do we leave?_

_Now, _she said simply. _But first, you need a name._

She then began to list names she had looked up. There was Orionor, dragon of the second Dragon Rider. She had tried Rituvin, whom had helped slay many Urgals and break up a war. No matter how many names she suggested, the dragon would shake it's head, and she could sense it's amusement. Then, realization dawned on her.

_You're a girl! _She exclaimed.

_Yes._

_Are you…Luthian? _She asked, suggesting the only she-dragon name she knew of.

_Yes._

**A/N: Sorry for the long disappearance. I suffered a giant case of writer's block. Anyway, how do you all like Daranella and Luthian? I liked this chapter, though it was rather long. I'm not particularly fond of the ending, but oh well. Review, please!**


	5. Chapter Four: The Stable Boy

**Disclaimer: **You have the honors, Eragon and Murtagh.

Eragon: She doesn't own us.

Murtagh: Thank goodness for that!

Eragon: Actually, I should be the one thankful, I'd be dead if she had her way with the story!

Murtagh: Hey! I get to be supreme ruler, I'm not complaining!

Eragon: -mumbles- For once in your life.

Me: We get it boys, we get it!

Chapter Three: The Stable Boy 

Uru'baen. The capital of the Empire. You'd expect something great and beautiful, someplace where dreams came true, where there was a party every night. But no, the city was far less than majestic. Ivy climbed the stonewalls of the ancient city, scorch marks decorated expanses of white marble, and all iron was rusted and without splendor. Trash littered the streets, and the homes; once grand and marvelously expensive, were now worthless and bleak. Even in the times of Galbatorix was the city treated so poorly.

Instead of the cheerful and carefree aura you'd expect the capital city to have, there was tension in the air, so thick you cut it with a butter knife. Wolves prowled in the shadows at night, for bloodshed was not uncommon here, and the scent of fear always lingered on even the purest of zephyrs. Poor orphans and beggars made homes in the alleyways, often fighting off wild dogs for a small expanse of shelter. The people fortunate enough to have a house did not have much to smile about, especially when tax season came around. Three-year-olds could be seen carrying heavy chain metal for the Empire's warriors instead of playing in the fields. A scowl seemed to accompany everyone's faces.

A young boy sighed as he glanced around his hometown. It was eerily silent, as always, with only the quiet mumblings or humorless chuckles for comfort. The citizens wore the same attire it seemed; a brown tunic, rough black shorts, each one decorated with holes and fraying threads. He brushed back a strand of flaming red hair, which was almost unrecognizable as red under the dirt and grime from work.

Avaris contemplated how lucky he was as he made his way to the stables; his light indigo eyes lacking the haunted look other citizens had in their own. He had a job and a home. Sure, being stable boy was not very enjoyable. The soldiers often jeered him as he worked, mocking him with comments about 'street trash.' They found new ways to torment him as a source of their daily entertainment. From ropes cut too short when he tried to lead the horses out for exercise to and extra scoop of dung in the stables he was assigned to clean, Avaris hated their little jokes with a fury.

Still, he was luckier than most boys of his seventeen years. He had a family, his mother and cousin being able to be accepted as a family, anyway. While the roof over his head was dingy, and the walls cracked, the three roomed shack he lived in was still a home. He had a rather good paying job and did not live on the streets, nor did he seek refuge in taverns, drinking his worries away like many young men these days. And he had a reason to live.

No, it was not for his mother or his young cousin, Nathaniel. Truth be told, he did not enjoy their company. The only reason they kept him around was because of the money he brought in from his job. His true reason to live was a crimson creature by the name of Teleia. She was part of a race believed to have only one left, a mystical race that often was told in legends, a race praised by even those who hated it. She was a dragon.

As the boy began to groom a white mare, he thought back to the day his life had changed. He'd probably never know if it had changed for better or worse, all he knew was that day he had received a reason to live.

_Avaris awoke with a start, his heart pounding, drenched in cold sweat. His breathing was labored for some reason, his light indigo eyes wide with some kind of fright. He had not had a nightmare, had not had any dream at all, but for some reason he was shaking with terror. Wide-awake and unable to shake off the feeling that something had happened, he quietly got out of bed, his feet making no noise on the dirt ground that was the flooring of his shake._

_Silently, he crept around the room that he shared with his mother, who was snoring at the moment, auburn curls sticking to her face in an unappealing way. His eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly as he gazed around the room, looking for something out of place. After a moment, he relaxed his tensed muscles, shrugging off the strange feeling. He was about to go back to bed when he heard a squeak._

_He froze, his heart beating wildly as he looked around for the source of the squeak. A scuffling sound from the shadows caused him to whip around, drawing a knife he had taken from his bedside table when he got up. There, in a shaft of silvery moonlight, stood a young, lizard-like creature, watching him with intelligence within its fiery depths. It was a dragon._

_The boy almost dropped the knife he was holding as shocked as he was. No, dragons didn't exist anymore, at least not one besides Thorn, the cursed Murtagh's dragon. But there it stood, as if it had jumped from the legends he had always eagerly listened too._

_It was then that he remembered the stone. About three weeks before, he had found a stone that glittered like a ruby in the sunlight. He might have mistaken it for such had it not been for the bronze veins that crisscrossed across its flawless surface. The stone was not a mere rock, he realized, but an egg._

_After a moment of tense silence, the dragon hatchling grew bored of him, and continued to explore the room, squeaking with delight as it nibbled on a piece of ham that had fallen from a sandwich Avaris had eaten in the room earlier. A reluctant smile tugged the young man's lips. Forgetting all hesitation, he stepped towards the dragon, placing his hand on its blood red snout._

_Pain exploded as the two touched, icy fire running the length of his right arm and quickly through the rest of his body. He fell backwards, biting his lip from letting loose a wild cry of pain. The dull clang of metal echoed through the chasms of his mind. As soon as the pain had come, it vanished, however, warmth seeping back into his limbs as he gasped for breath._

_Then, he felt something strange and foreign brush against the walls of his mind, like a hand stroking a baby's cheek. He felt growing curiosity from the link, and pulled himself into the depths of his mind, scared. Avaris felt the connection disappear instantly, and the walls of his mind rush back. He glared at the dragon suspiciously._

_He glanced at his palm, where a roughly silver oval had appeared, as silver as the moonlight. It itched and burned like a bug bite, but he ignored it. The link brushed against his mind again, but this time with ravenous hunger. Avaris went to the kitchen, returning with three links of meat, which the dragon ate savagely. It was then the bonding process took place._

Avaris remembered that from about two months ago. He had made the dragon a small house in the woods on the outskirts of the city, but it had long outgrown that. Now it was about the size of a small house. He felt her touch his mind, and gladly welcomed her.

'_Avaris?' _came the dragon's voice, echoing through the chambers of his mind.

'_I am here, Teleia,' _he replied, grimacing as a loud group of soldiers neared, knowing the daily torment would begin soon.

'_You should not let them treat you like this. It is unjust. I do not care if we are in the Emperor's domain, I will come and get you myself if this continues. They have no right to treat you like a nobody,' _he could sense her anger, and she had obviously felt his dread and realized what was to occur. Still, she tried to lighten the mood with a joke. _'I'm the only one who can jest you for smelling like horse dung when you return.'_

'_I am a nobody,' _Avaris admitted with disdain, his feeling of dread growing as the group approached. He winced as he felt her anger, this time directed at him.

'_You are a Rider, and more importantly, **my** Rider. And I shall not stand for this self-pity. I chose you for me from within my egg; I do not want to see that I made a mistake choosing you. You are better then they ever will dream to be.' _the reply was harsh, almost scolding.

'_I'm sorry, Teleia,' _he mumbled in his mind sincerely, sending her calming images.

'_You are forgiven.' _was her curt reply before she cut off the connection.

"Ah, hello, stable boy? How do you enjoy treading in the dung of horses fairer than you?" asked Tirenis, the leader of the group. The others sniggered dumbly behind him.

"The dung is fairer than you all, not to mention it smells better," Avaris mumbled, though he made the mistake of letting it just loud enough for them to hear. The other soldiers laughed again, and their leader turned beat red.

"I'll teach you to respect your elders, you little worm," he growled, taking a threatening step forward. Avaris ignored it.

"I hope you don't mean yourself," the stable boy spat, only to regret it a moment later.

The older boy charged at him, throwing Avaris against the wall with great force, knocking the breath out of him. Pinned to the wall, he tried to squirm away, but Tirenis punched him on the side of his head, pain exploding through his mind.

'_Avaris!' _Teleia's thought was pained and shocked, she could obviously feel what her Rider was going through. _'I'm coming to get you!'_

'_N—!' _his train of thought was stopped as Tirenis punched him again. Blinded by pain, he kicked the older boy, causing the soldier to drop him.

"After him!" the pained leader yelled, and soon enough the others were charging after him.

Avaris scurried away, ducking out of the stables quickly. They gave chase, and soon they were running through the large field the horses exercised in. The stable boy was more nimble and quicker than them, and so he had a lead. However, they managed to corner him near a water trough.

"You're going to get it now, Avaris," Tirenis mocked as he and the group closed. Avaris shut his eyes, waiting for the pain…

It never came. A large roar rumbled through the air, and Avaris looked up to see Teleia approaching from the sky at dizzying speeds. The soldiers yelped and jumped back, too shocked to do anything. Avaris seized the moment and sprinted towards the she-dragon, not bothering to look back. He mounted her quickly, even though he was not sure if she could carry him yet. Her sharp scales dug into his legs, but he ignored the pain.

It took a moment for Teleia to get off the ground, obviously unused to the weight of her Rider. None of the boys dared to approach her as she took off. Avaris sighed, relieved. That was, until he realized their secret was out, and watched Tirenis run towards the castle, a smug grin on his face…

**A/N: **Yes, another Rider! Thank you to those who suggested ideas, I'll try to work them into the last two Riders. I liked Avaris and Teleia's characters, but not too much this chapter. Anyway, I will be gone the next ten days, so there will be no updates. Please review!


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